Stubbornness Issues
by Backroads
Summary: What is it about Vikings and their need to not listen but keep pushing no matter what?


So maybe he was a hypocrite. A few years of adolescent rolling-of-the-eyes every time someone in Berk did something the least bit Viking-like clearly did not wipe away centuries of ingrained behavior and attitude, the legacy of all barbarians. All right, so he admitted it: he was exactly the same way and always had been, an embodiment of a chronic stubborn streak determined to always get its way and do exactly what it wanted.

No wonder he had aggravated so many people over the years. That was what Vikings did. They aggravated each other.

Hiccup had what he had always wanted: a little appreciation and recognition as a Viking. It felt good. In fact, it was the best feeling ever. Yes, he was just like the rest of them.

So why did it have to hurt so much? Physically, anyway. Mentally, emotionally, all of that, it felt great, it felt wonderful. Jubilant. Yeah, those were fine. It was the physical that was giving him the trouble.

The day had been long. Probably a weakling thing to say in the light of a mid-afternoon come-to, but the darkness chasing down the sun reminded him of just how tired he was. That shard of a day had brought with it everything good and bad and frankly the average teenager such as he didn't quite have the means to take it all in. So he would be tired, of course. And he was still sore. So many people had already been surprised to see him up and about.

He breathed deeply and stared down at the surrounding ocean. Saltwater, splashes from the afternoon's last flight over the water, still clung to him. He liked the smell of it and how it tasted in combination with that kiss from Astrid. That had been a good part of the day. Other parts of the day, not so much. But that was all right, he could handle it. And he was handling it. Hadn't he handled it since he woke up hours ago?

Yes, he could handle it. He turned back to the steps, wide steps of stone sitting seamless in the hillside. Why did the stupid house have to be on a hill? Granted, it was hardly steep, but right now as tired as he was it might as well have been a mountain.

Toothless sat not far off, watching. It was as far as Hiccup had been able to send the dragon. He had helped already, helped so much more than anyone could have ever asked… but not right now.

Hiccup didn't need help.

So what if he had done little more than stand there for the past few minutes? Standing was easy, just balancing, he was fine with that. That hadn't been the problem at all. Walking was the problem. Except it wasn't a problem because he wasn't going to make it a problem. First steps of the day, actually, without clinging to a dragon or a human, no cheating for balance. It could be done. It had been done countless times before by countless other people. Sometimes bad things happened for whatever reason and you dealt with it and that was just what he was doing. Gobber had said to just keep at it, keep practicing, and he would soon find that balance.

He put his arms out, feeling rather dorky, and went for the first step. Right leg landed firmly, normally, just like always. Left buckled under him. Metal struck hard against stone, and a sharp pain jolted through his body. What was left of that leg had been so sore all day. This pain was almost a welcome change.

Toothless bounded forward, eyes bright and concerned in the darkness.

"No!" Hiccup held up a hand, and the dragon stopped. "I'm fine. Stay." He pushed himself up. That wasn't too hard. A little shaky, but he could stand. That was the part he had down.

A few deep breaths steadied him. Hopefully the rest of the village was doing their own thing, because this was beyond embarrassing. Well, he was supposed to keep at it, not stay down. He was a Viking, one of those rock-headed freaks of social evolution who would keep fighting until the last drop of blood was forced from their bodies and the Valkyries charged in. So he tried again, a small slide across the step. It hurt, but it worked. Another. Small and slow and steady. Another step. He gritted his teeth and went for it. Focus, concentrate. The landing was shaky, but he made it.

"Yes." But that small moment of celebration was enough. His legs twisted unwilling beneath him. He caught himself, hands hard against the cold stone, but he had failed. No problem. Get up again. He was tired and he hurt, but he could get up again. He could do this. Toothless moved in the darkness. "Stay away, bud." Hooray for semi-obedient dragons.

A few more slides across the expanse of the step. The pain was grating, but it worked. Except it wasn't good enough. He was supposed to walk, actually walk. No lying around like an invalid. He couldn't stomach that anyway.

Next step. Just how many were there? He could hear Toothless snorting worriedly nearby. Toothless, who had been his support all day, standing guard. Hiccup almost wished he would go away. He didn't need anyone to rush in and rescue him anymore. He went for the step. Lift up the knee, move forward…

He fell again, hard. He tried to catch himself, but not in time to sense a trickle of blood on his right shin. Minor scratch, hardly worth a care, but right now so irritating. This whole thing was really irritating, in fact. Why not just admit it? Admit it, say oh well, and continue on. He started to push himself up.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hiccup could barely see his father in the darkness, just some obscure mass of shadow.

"Going home, obviously." Hiccup pointed at the rest of the steps.

"You're so slow about it."

"Yeah, well, I'm not quite into practice yet. I'm tired. I thought you were back at the Hall." He managed to get himself upright. The easy part.

Stoic paused before speaking. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, Dad. I don't. Thanks, though." Not the time to be rude. He took another step, no sliding. This time he felt the collapse before it even happened. "I got this. I just need to practice."

"Hiccup, it's pitch-black right now. How can you see?"

"There's still a little light. I'm—" His words were cut off as Stoic's hand wrapped around his arm and lifted him up. "Dad!"

"What? I'm just helping you."

"I don't need it. I need practice." He wanted to pull away, but instead found himself with no energy. His dad was too strong anyway. Limp, he fell against Stoic.

Stoic guided Hiccup to the next step. Hiccup felt like a sheep being pushed along.

"Are you mad?" Stoic asked.

"Mad?" That question. "Mad that somebody chopped off my leg while I was unconscious so I wouldn't die of gangrene or something? Unpleasantly surprised, but no, I'm not mad. I can handle it. Let me do this step."

He didn't have the energy for it. He could already feel it. How long was this adjustment supposed to take? But his dad was here, far less obedient than Toothless. As his dad let go of his arm, he took the step. And crashed. Of course. Another wave of searing pain rolled through his body.

"Tomorrow," sad Stoic. "Practice tomorrow. All you want."

"But Dad—" But Hiccup found himself being lifted up like some child. "Dad, put me down!"

"No. You said you were tired and it's been a long day, so you're going to bed now, and starting tomorrow I don't care what you do."

"Just put me down. I can walk it."

"Tomorrow."

"You never listen to me!"

Stoic laughed. "Like you ever listen."

Hiccup sighed and stopped struggling. Stupid Vikings never giving in. Aggravating.

At least everything hurt a little less. And he could hear Toothless ambling along.

_The End_


End file.
